


all's fair (in love and war)

by dizzydancing



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 04:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15016634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzydancing/pseuds/dizzydancing
Summary: In every universe out there, Cristiano and Leo are competitive as hell.Inspired bythis.





	all's fair (in love and war)

**Author's Note:**

> Okaaay hi, I know it's been forever. I am currently working on part two of "infinity or some brighter place". Since I haven't written in a long ass time, this fic collection/series is just a way to get my mojo back. My mojo is definitely not back yet, so the writing might be uh, shall we say, rough to read.
> 
> Also, title is subject to change.

Leo would like to think of himself as a good guy, a generally decent and hardworking student who minds his own business and smiles at strangers. He has certainly never thought of himself as an asshole unless one takes Geri into consideration –– in which case, yeah, okay, Leo is an asshole by association. Geri does a fair share of nagging his friends and generally making life miserable for the camp administrators, who have the burden of dragging Geri and his camp kids back to camp when he decides to take a “spontaneous trip” or hide all the food and supplies. Leo isn’t entirely innocent, but there’s usually a reason for his crimes. That reason is a six feet tall, loud, obnoxious Catalan.

Today though, Geri is surprisingly on his best behavior, and Leo is the problem. More specifically, Leo’s problem is a new Portuguese counselor who has already charmed everyone at the camp, including the cooks who always glare at Leo when he asks for more food. Leo doesn’t mind initially, says hi to Cristiano and notes that he seems nice. He even compliments Cristiano’s earrings, which earns him a bright smile.

So no, it wasn’t hate at first sight. Leo can’t bring himself to hate anyone, not really. He doesn’t hate Cristiano. He tells Geri so, but Geri just scoffs.

“Right, you don’t hate him,” Geri repeats, disbelief ingrained in his tone. “So you don’t mind if I bring my campers to his cabin?”

“Of course not,” Leo replies, shrugging.

“What if I asked him to demonstrate his canoeing tips?” Geri shoots back. He has a glint is his eye, and Leo feels his stomach turn.

“You can, but my team won the canoe round,” Leo says as nonchalantly as possible. He can tell from how Geri’s shoulders straighten that he gave himself away. Cristiano has longer arms, so really, Leo should be bragging, but he bites his tongue to keep Geri from getting any more ammunition.

“What about wall climbing tips?” Geri rests his chin on the palm of his right hand innocently, and Leo has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

“Our time was a lot shorter the second time around. We’ll win next time.” There’s the fact that Cristiano’s team clearly had tighter harnesses and Cristiano kept distracting Leo by winking every time he moved past Leo on the wall, but Leo bites his tongue again because he’s supposed to be a graceful loser who doesn’t hate anyone and oh God, he really does hate Cristiano --

Geri laughs because he can read Leo’s mind or maybe just because he’s an asshole.

“Don’t scrunch your face up like that,” Geri says. He ruffles Leo’s hair and pulls his hand back before Leo can slap it away. “I believe in you and your little soldiers. If it helps, Cristiano’s campers have put on some weight. The cook keeps serving them burgers all week, none for the rest of us peasants.”

Leo averts his gaze from Geri’s, instead studying his surroundings.

“Leo,” Geri says slowly, a look of realization dawning in his eyes. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Leo huffs.

“Right,” A familiar voice appears out of nowhere, startling Geri and making Leo sit up straighter. Cristiano stands in front of their table in grey shorts and a white shirt soaked with sweat. His body demeanor is relaxed and casual, but his gaze is hard, assessing. “You didn’t do anything except change the lunch schedule so that my campers eat junk food all week.”

“What are you doing here?” Leo asks instead of answering the accusation. He feels his skin heat up, and he blames it on the summer heat. “I thought your team was scheduled for the training on tying rope knots.”

“Coincidentally -- or not -- the week right before the big camp competition,” Cristiano continues, completely disregarding Leo’s question.

Instinctively, Leo stands up and moves toward Cristiano. He settles for a neutral expression, and Cristiano does the same, his face suddenly a blank mask. Leo almost laughs at how easily they mirror each other, but the laughter dies in his throat. He’s suddenly hyper aware of Cristiano’s proximity, of the warmth of Cristiano’s breath and the steadiness of his gaze.

Geri clears his throat, and Leo stumbles back into action. Cristiano’s eyes track Leo’s movements as he reaches for the menu his team got for lunch and passes it to Cristiano, their hands brushing against one another.

“I don’t know what happened,” Leo tells Cristiano as earnestly as possible. “Hopefully the cooks can help your team.”

Cristiano just lets out a light laugh. He nods at Leo, almost shakily, and pauses like he’s trying to decide something. The muscles underneath Cristiano’s shirt tighten, and Leo lets out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding.

“Thanks,” Cristiano finally says, and then, maybe because he can’t help himself, adds. “We left the training session early because my campers learned how to tie the 8 essential rope knots so quickly.”

“Nice,” Geri whistles appreciatively, most likely just to annoy Leo.

“Yeah, well done,” Leo agrees flatly. He’s just about to leave it at that and let Cristiano weigh on the sincerity of that statement, but then Cristiano gives him a look -- somewhere between wonderment and contemplation -- that makes Leo’s knees shakier. He feels the sudden, inexplicable urge to make those dark brown eyes flash with emotion. “My team knows how to tie 12 different rope knots.”

To his surprise, Cristiano just laughs, Adam’s apple bobbing and eyes softening with something like -- fondness? Leo’s head hurts. He can’t figure out why Cristiano so effortlessly has this effect on him. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t want the thrumming in his veins to go away either. With it, he feels restless. Without it, he doesn’t feel alive.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cristiano finally says after Leo is quiet for too long. He starts walking away, every bit of grace in his step, before turning back and yelling out: “May the best team -- mine -- win!”

Leo flips him off right there, in front of two dozen middle schoolers.

~~~~~

Competition day is absolute chaos.

The camp administrators, the adults, are stumbling over themselves trying to make sure every camper is accounted for, no one is hungry, and above all, no one is trying to kill a rival team member (see: Cristiano and Leo).

Cristiano is wearing a pink tank and black shorts. He pulls the shorts up for “flexibility and comfort reasons” until Leo can sees enough skin to make his head hurt.

“This is the first time someone likes worse than you on competition day,” Leo tells Geri. Geri scowls, looking like an angry bear, before bending down to tie his sneakers which have flashing lights on them. Leo leaves him be and gets ready for the first round.

The first round is archery. Unsurprisingly, middle schoolers struggle to pull back their arrows, much less shoot it in the right direction. Half of the campers’ parents refused to give their kids permission to participate, so the round ends up being Leo and two kids against Cristiano and two kids.

Cristiano and his team win by a clear margin because Leo keeps releasing the arrow far move above the target. Leo pats his camper on the back for trying his best before turning to Cristiano who is sonofabitch bowing to his enthusiastic campers.

Leo grits his teeth and turns away, but Cristiano tugs his elbow, stopping him in his tracks.

“Good round,” Cristiano assures him. There’s a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead; Leo’s heart beats faster. Cristiano offers his hand for Leo to shake. “You did your best. It must be hard when the bow is taller than you are.”

Leo doesn’t shake his hand. Obviously.

The second round is a challenge course. Leo looks forward to it because most of it is maneuvering tight spaces and weaving from rope to rope or plank to plank. He knows all which routes are fastest, has all the footwork memorized by heart.

Cristiano doesn’t him win easily. Every step of the way, Cristiano is there, blocking Leo’s path by shoving one arm back to hold Leo off or brushing past him quickly, causing Leo to stumble. Cristiano’s campers are pushing aside Leo’s campers, without a doubt due to Cristiano’s orders. The entire round is a mess of flailing limbs and angry accusations. Leo keeps shouting at his campers to be careful and ignore the opposition, and Cristiano won’t give him an inch of breathing room.

Somewhere amid all the chaos, Leo manages to climb to the highest level. Ten more seconds and he’ll reach the rope ladder that he can lower down for his campers to climb. Ten more seconds and he’ll secure victory. In a blink, a tan arm blocks his path, cornering him against a wooden pole.

Leo doesn’t need to look up to know that it’s Cristiano. He doesn’t dare look up. Not because of loss or victory, but because of fear. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore, doesn’t know how to distinguish anything more blurry than winning versus losing, so he does the only thing he knows how. He reaches up to cup Cristiano’s chin, fingers brushing against the tremble in Cristiano’s neck, and leans in. The soft press of lips and the fleeting gasp from Cristiano’s mouth. It feels familiar and fresh and wrong and comforting. Leo’s fingers slip away from Cristiano’s face, and Leo finally looks up to see Cristiano’s eyes closed. He moves forward alone to win the round.

The third round is wall climbing. Leo’s team breaks their old record and wins. He lifts his campers into the air one-by-one, laughs at Geri’s shoes again, and tries not to remember how Cristiano’s ass looked when he was climbing the wall. Cristiano doesn’t acknowledge him, and the win feels hollow. Leo doesn’t know what the connection is.

Finally, it’s time for capture the flag.

He has gotten a hold of the opposition's flag, clutched to the his side. He's just started to feel that addictive surge of confidence, the warmth of serving his team and receiving the appreciation and awe from his team members -- young as they may be. He's just started to feel sure of himself, so of course, that's when Cristiano crashes into his line of sight and tackles him to the ground. For a moment, Leo fights back, pulling Cristiano's hair and smiling in satisfaction when he hisses. For a moment, Leo pretends they hate each other, pretends that the bruises are battle scars and the jersey colors are allegiances.

They both stop fighting -- pushing, kicking, struggling to win some twisted game -- at the same time. Leo holds Cristiano's gaze and wonders.

"You tried to fattening up my players so that you could win a dumb camp trophy," Cristiano finally says after what feels like an eternity.

"You don't want to win the dumb camp trophy?" Leo's own voice sounds barely above a whisper to himself.

"Of course I do."

"Oh," Leo says dumbly. He can't think about the trophy anymore.

"That's not the only thing I want." Cristiano just smiles back because Leo is an idiot, and this smile, this smile Leo has never seen before. This smile is bright teeth tucked shyly behind soft lips, lines bracketing his mouth, crinkles softening his eyes. This smile is sweet and secretive, everything Leo had been running away from and everything he never knew he needed. He thinks of youth and naivety then hope and new beginnings; he chooses the latter. This smile makes Leo fall in love all over again. He pulls Cristiano in, tongue eagerly exploring the taste of that smile, and breathes.


End file.
